


Pumpkin, Three Ways

by Angie13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angie13/pseuds/Angie13
Summary: When Steve and Bucky and Natasha decide they deserve an autumn date night, someone's perfectionism comes out.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Pumpkin, Three Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).



“So the movie starts at ten but we really shouldn’t bother getting there until at least five after. Maybe even ten after.”

Bucky squinted across their kitchen at Natasha, pausing in his assigned task of spreading fresh newspaper over the large center island. The movie date was her idea. She seemed tickled at the thought of taking him to his first movie in approximately fifty years and spent more time than he expected in her attempts to find the perfect one. He found her reaction both adorable and worrying - which pretty much described how he found Nat herself with an extra dose of sex appeal. “Why would you want to get there after it starts?”

“First, they now show commercials before they even show trailers. Forget the movie actually starting on time.” The redhead smirked as she turned to face him. Then she leaned back until she was cozy against the rolled edge of the counter behind her. The move was casual, graceful, and far too innocently calculating. Bucky felt his right eyebrow lift to signal his doubt. The slightly wicked twist of her mouth softened into an increasingly familiar curve of affection and bemusement in response. A slight duck of her chin and motion of her head sent his eyes towards where Steve stood at the sink, rinsing and drying the three disemboweled pumpkins that served as their project for the night. “Second, though,” Natasha almost purred. “I figure it’s best to slip in when it’s dark because some people have a very recognizable face and can’t say no.”

A snicker escaped him and he nodded in whole-hearted agreement. “Yeah, trust me, I know. He’s always been like that. Even before he gained the muscles and the shield. Mrs. Donatelli used to have him running errands all the time. Running slowly and coughing his brains out but still, y’know, doing them.” He watched Steve carefully balance all three freshly prepared gourds in his arms and waited until the other man started the trek to the island with his burden. Blue eyes flicked between Bucky and Natasha but Steve held his face as still as he could in an attempt to prove he was not listening. The little shit. His poker face had improved, Bucky thought with amusement. He would have to blame that on Nat, of course. 

With a casualness that nearly matched Natasha’s early display, Bucky ran the palm of his hand over the newspapers again to indicate where Steve should set the pumpkins. “I mean, it’s fine when he can’t say no to us because that’s how it’s supposed to work but it gets kinda ridiculous when you can’t even let him go get milk from the store on his own because of distractions.”

That finally drew a reaction and Steve offered up a sheepish smile. Hands pumpkin-free, he rubbed the back of his head with one. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Two weeks ago. McDonald’s.”

Steve promptly blushed and Bucky grinned fit to burst, pleased to see Nat had not taught him all of her control. “McDonald’s?”

A grimace twisted his mouth and Steve retrieved a pencil sketch from its folder. As he smoothed the paper over his pumpkin and stuck it in place with masking tape, he answered in his most hilariously prim voice, “They were kids, Nat. It was just a few signatures.”

“And ice cream cones,” Natasha added cheerfully. Steve’s vocal attempts at a set-down clearly had next to no effect on her. Bucky approved heavily and chalked up another point in favor of their loose-but-devoted trio. “And then the suburban soccer mom who clearly had great hopes of you being Little Tommy’s new daddy.” Steve’s blush returned and he abruptly stuck his tongue out at her.

Bucky exploded with laughter. “Did you put her in her place, Nat?” he asked as he drew a stool closer to the island, hopped up onto it, and pulled his designated pumpkin towards him.

“Only when Steve made The Eyes at me.”

“I did not.” Though his eyes were focused on his vegetable canvas and his hand remained steady as he poked holes through the drawing to mark the rind, a crookedly pleased smile put lie to his innocence. He had totally done The Help Me Eyes. “But it was awfully nice of you to remember the appointment we had, Nat,” he continued sweetly.

“Steve Rogers, you are such a little shit.” Bucky picked up a stray seed from the newspaper in front of him and pitched it with unnerving accuracy at the blonde’s head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Natasha straddled her own stool, retrieved a marker, and began haphazardly sketching her design straight onto her pumpkin. “If you keep telling him that, he’s only going to get worse,” she drawled. Then she fell silent in concentration, finishing with the marker and then swiftly moving onto the knife.

Bucky watched her with a sense of fondness that felt comfortable, elbow propped on the island and ignoring his own pumpkin. He watched the tiny frown of concentration appear between her eyebrows and the way she poked her tongue out the corner of her mouth. Adorable was not a word most people would ever dare apply to the infamous Black Widow but… Well, if the shoe fit. Glancing sideways, he noticed Steve had stopped his deliberate prep work to watch Natasha as well. He caught his other partner’s eyes and grinned. “Cute, huh?” he mouthed.

Steve nodded, returning the smile warmly. Then he raised his free hand, two fingers extended in a v shape, before dropping his hand parallel to the countertop and pointing towards both Bucky and Natasha. The message was clear and Bucky allowed himself a moment to preen. Steve was never hesitant to express how important both of them were to him - how much he valued their brains and skills and souls - but his more physically based compliments tended to come out in either his art or the bedroom. So even such a wordless gesture implying attractiveness inflated the ego.

For a few more moments, Bucky watched both of his partners working on their pumpkins. Steve’s painstaking precision and Natasha’s deliberate slashes. She had already carved out one eye while Steve still carefully poked holes through his sketch to transfer the outline onto the rind. Chuckling under his breath, Bucky picked up his own knife and wondered if the two of them knew how similar they really were and, if they did, would they admit it. 

He carefully worked his blade through the rind of his pumpkin and, eschewing any preparation for his masterpiece, carved out a decidedly wonky triangle to serve as an eye. As he moved onto the other eye, he reflected on the downright stubbornness of both his partners. Their almost vicious drive to succeed. While he knew everyone thought Steve was a moral paragon and Nat changed her story with a gust of wind, Bucky knew better. Given any number of different circumstances, they could have come out looking the exact opposites to the world. Natasha’s compass existed just as strong as Steve’s and his willingness to pursue hard choices and methods sat just as firmly as hers. After all, the bonehead falsified how many enlistment applications before Erskine stepped in? 

Natasha might take a bit longer to dedicate herself but once she did? Whoo, boy, look out. Bucky smirked to himself. Then there was Steve, loyal as the day was long. He was one hell of a lucky guy, he thought. Given what they had all gone through, all the blood and shit and trauma.

And here they were. In their shared apartment one night in October, killing time before a movie, carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns. 

A kiss to the side of his neck made him start and he fought back the instinctive jerk. She must have felt it, though, because the kiss came again but closer to his ear and Natasha whispered, “Good job, Barnes. Thanks for not knocking me on my butt.”

“Or for not trying to,” he returned with a laugh. He stared at the completed jack-o-lantern in front of him. “Huh. Look what I made.”

“I know. You were in the zone.” Natasha slipped an arm around his shoulders and leaned into his side, head against his. She studied his work. Crooked eyes, big smile, button nose. “I like him. Let’s call him…” She paused as if her first suggestion was inappropriate. Then she laughed. “Jack. Just Jack works.”

At the sound of her laughter, Steve surfaced briefly to crane his neck and look at Bucky’s pumpkin. He grinned, delighted. “Looks great, Buck.”

Bucky saluted the blond and slipped his arm around Natasha’s waist. “What about yours? Let’s see this work of art.” Easing off his stool while maintaining his hold, he expertly maneuvered her around the island, making sure to pass behind Steve for a peek at his pumpkin. He still appeared to be in the early stages of carving but at least had set aside the sketch and started cutting away rind. Without even exchanging looks, both Bucky and Natasha patted Steve’s rear in passing and he barely managed to stifle his laugh at the ease of coincidence and Steve’s rumbly grump of disapproval. Great minds think alike, he supposed. They certainly both recognized quality.

Luckily, they both also recognized hard work, he amended silently as they came to a halt in front of his redheaded partner’s pumpkin. It was certainly more polished than his and, he had to admit, cuter but nothing for the Pumpkin Hall of Fame. For one thing, it was missing an eyebrow and the nose-hole threatened the integrity of the eyes. “So eyebrows?”

She rolled her eyes. “It was a slip of the knife and I tried to make it work but didn’t feel up to making an attempt at symmetry. I think I’ll call her Lady Dorcas Curmudgeon.” Natasha patted the pumpkin’s head fondly. “She’ll feed some nice squirrels in about a month.”

“In all of her fancy schmancy rotting glory.”

“You’re such a poet. No wonder you got all the girls back then.”

Bucky smirked. “Steve been telling stories?”

“Only good ones and he might have exaggerated in a kind of glowy, smitten way but who’s to judge?” Natasha glanced at the microwave clock and suddenly frowned. “Eight thirty,” she murmured. With that announcement, he could read between the lines - especially when he saw her eyes dart back to Steve and his pumpkin. 

The movie was at ten but Steve showed no signs of being done or even of acknowledging a time limit. He set his hand at the small of her back in an unthinking gesture of partnership and reassurance, pure affection in the gesture . “How about you start the clean up and I’ll check on Michelangelo over there?” 

She nodded with a smile and immediately set to bundling up pumpkin guts and former glory in the newspaper. “No big deal if it gets late, though,” she added over her shoulder as he drifted back towards Steve. “Let the big kid have his fun.”

Indulgent Natasha. Bucky hid his smile, thinking on it. How much would that wreck her image? Easing back to stand next to Steve, he watched for a moment in silence. Then, making sure the knife was not against the pumpkin, he abruptly hip-checked him. Steve yelped under his breath but then burst out laughing. He returned the motion and Bucky caught himself from being sent a foot across the floor by sheer determination. “You heard the lady, huh?” he asked.

“Mmhm and I am having fun.” Steve looked up with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry it’s taking a while. I think I planned something a little too detailed.”

Bucky shrugged and, much like he had with Natasha, he placed his hand at the small of the other man’s back. “Stop apologizing. It’s not like we’re operating under mission timetables. Unless your pumpkin is actually a detailed plan to attack?”

“To take over the nearest Spirit of Halloween Store!” Natasha called from across the kitchen, clearly not above a little eavesdropping while working.

“We’d need a half dozen battalions for that,” Steve retorted with another laugh. “Those things pop up like mushrooms. I think it’s kind of like how we used to feel about leaves changing. The modern version of the season-change. Here comes a Spirit store.” Unconsciously, he leaned a bit into Bucky’s hand and his smile lingered at Natasha’s laugh rewarding his joke. 

Bucky ducked to kiss Steve’s cheek as his own form of reward. “Okay, yeah, I see that. Capitalism, comrade, capitalism.” He snickered. “Careful, Stevie, that almost sounded cynical.” He cast one more puzzled glance at the slowly developing design in front of Steve, then shrugged, and delivered one more quick kiss. This one landed on Steve’s temple. “We’ll clean up. You just keep working and ignore us mouthing off.”

“Yes, sir.” The knife came up in a quick mock salute and then Steve obediently bent his focus back to his work as Bucky wandered off to help Natasha.

… “There. I’m done.” Sighing with the release felt after a long session of concentration, Steve wiped his forehead with the back of his sticky hand. For not having carved a pumpkin in a couple decades, he had not done a bad job, he thought smugly. At least Bucky and Nat should be able to recognize the scene - a complicated creation of their entwined logos and initials and a few of their favorite things. When no one answered his announcement after a moment, though, he frowned. It was unlike his partners to pass on a chance to tease him about his perfectionist streak. He set his knife down before running his palm over the front of his pumpkin lightly to smooth away final traces of gunk. The small light of the microwave clock drew his attention. Eleven o’clock. Way past the movie’s start time. “Shit,” he muttered.

No mocking “language!” answered his curse. Either he was in trouble and they had left without him or… Grabbing up a handful of paper towels, he scrubbed his hands clean of pumpkin residue and wandered from the kitchen. The lights throughout the rest of the apartment were dim but the faintest sound of music drew him across to the living room. White words scrolled across the black of the tv screen, credits at the end of a movie. Rounding the couch, Steve smiled wide at what he saw. Bucky lay sprawled and loose-limbed lengthwise on the couch, his dark hair tumbled into his face. On his chest, Natasha lay, just as peacefully unconscious as he was, eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheek from the glare of the television.

A warm tightness bloomed in his chest, his smile growing until it nearly hurt. Goofy or not, sentimental as it was, this felt perfect. The two people he loved most in the world, the two people constantly hurt over and over by the world… They felt safe there with him. They slept without any hesitation or fear, trusting his presence to protect them. Screw a movie date. This was even better. This was heaven. Gingerly, Steve lowered himself to the floor beside the couch and worked his angle until he could lay his head against a portion of the cushion and Bucky’s side. He would wake up with a crick in his neck but it would be worth it. Closing his eyes, he felt a small hand drop to tangle fingers loosely in his hair. His Nat. His Bucky.

He could not wait to hear them tease him about being overly sentimental the next morning when they saw the pumpkin.


End file.
